#tho im hoping that it wont

[mwagneto]

hungarian/nomadic magyar tumblr circa 998AD dashboard simulator

🏞️ vándor-ló-979 Follow

not yall still spreading emese's foundation myth??? she literally claims she fucked a bird????? like either she's lying or she cheated and she's trying to cover it up or well. i dont even want to consider the third option

🪺 magánügyek Follow

tengri forbid women do anything???

735 notes

🦅 szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay im sick of the discourse let's do this.

8,572 notes

🐎 istván-rovására Follow

that took so long lmao -> !!!!!!!∧◇ᛏ⋈∧

481 notes

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

i'm so serious rn if you support """istván""" in any way just unfollow and block me. we do NOT need him or his dumbass god and what he's been doing to our people to spread his religion is shameful.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

btw we all know your real name is vajk stop larping as a christian it's EMBARRASSINGGGG

✝️ esztergom-örökké Follow

love seeing my mutuals reblogging this /s anyway op has multiple posts on their blog supporting quartering and human sacrifice. in case you were wondering. anyway stand with István

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

1) we dont even do human sacrifices, are you fucking stupid??? show me ONE post where i talk about that. 2) are you seriously forgetting that your bestie istván LITERALLY QUARTERED HIS UNCLE?????

#sorry to put this dumbass on the dash😭 dont even engage just block them #ur not making it up the tree of life lmao #discourse

3,264 notes

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

friendly reminder that just because you're white passing doesn't mean you're not a real magyar!! people with mixed parents are just as valid <3

🏇 attila-népe Follow

cranky coz ur ancestors decided to mix with the europeans arent you

🧺 lemezelő Follow

isnt your girlfriend literally frankish????

🏇 attila-népe Follow

you had to have done some serious stalking to find that💀 and first of all i didn't have a choice, my parents picked the tribe, and second of all she's not my "girlfriend" i got her via ritual kidnapping (WITH consent. before anyone gets weird)

🌐 a-kiber-kovács Follow

Couldn't you have kidnapped another magyar woman? Or someone from another mongoloid tribe?

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

ohh sure so now human pet guy is gonna chime in to advocate for the kidnapping of our women while being lowkey racist. what are you even doing on nomadblr????

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

what the fuck happened to my post

19,276 notes

🪔 rakabonciás Follow

for the nth time, you're only a true shaman if you were born with teeth OR with extra fingers OR in the sac. the rest of you are faking & we can tell.

🦅szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay people keep spreading this but this is literally just wrong?? like congrats on the 6 fingers op im glad u and Little Golden Father have a special connection (genuinely) but like. táltos and sámán and mágus and garabonciás and javas etc are all different things with completely different requirements and life paths which you should definitely know if you're claiming to be one?? especially since your post says shaman but you're listing the criteria for a táltos, and your username looks like a play on garabonciás so. which is it🤔 maybe get your facts in order before trying to gatekeep

anyway don't listen to op!! your connection to the Upper World is yours alone and you're the best judge of what the Fathers and Mothers want your path in life to be!!

646 notes

🛐 mea-culpa Follow

It breaks my heart that the majority of my people still refuse to see the One True God and insist on sticking to their pagan spirits. I fear that when judgement day comes, we will all be wiped out thanks to their foul godless ways.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

how tf am i godless when i literally have dozens of gods? little mothers and little fathers are in everything all around us & it must suck ass to live in a world where you're not surrounded by the small gods that inhabit everything. manifesting that the fene and the guta tag team beat your ass tonight

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

hadúr will literally strike op down personally. he told me himself. whispered it to me sweetly even

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

while i agree with you, i feel like you might also have ulterior motives, nomadblr user hadúrsimp

#but live your truth! doubly so on the posts of these freak repressed bible lovers. meanwhile on the #COOL side of magyarhood we walk around butt ass naked!!! op have fun never experiencing joy ever again tho #discourse

198 notes

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

posting from an alt so i don't get cancelled but lowkey i'm starting to think koppány was right.... maybe this christianity thing isn't gonna work out after all

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

WRONG BLOG

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

THIS WAS A JOKE. IGNORE THIS

🪺 magánügyek Follow

ISTVÁN????????????? 💀

[just-null]

Do you ever do requests? If so, do you ever plan on drawing some Yandere with the Hantengu clones? :D hope you have a good day/night!!!

Mentioning an unfamiliar name

yes!! I love yanderes.. and these guys.. these guys are such good material...... nods nods..

I'm not sure about requests..I assume you mean drawing requests? I suppose if it REALLY catches my interest enough, I'd do it, but it'd probably just be line art/sketches.

[kenchann]

doodles (mostly some firsties)

[anemonet]

[Outtake from iterator Prosperity of Populace final speach to her citizen before its disassembly.]

[liyliths]

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary: you've just been dragged to the middle of nowhere, aka hawkins, indiana, with your pos father where the cicadas are loud and the neighbors are louder. after moving into your new trailer home that’s seen better days—probably in another lifetime, you somehow end up under chief hopper's care, hawkins' grumpiest cop. oh, and did i mention you found a creepy portal in the woods? how much weirder can this town get?

While the pair unloaded their meager belongings from the truck, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of bitterness that clung to her. She resented her father for uprooting their lives once again, dragging her to this dismal trailer park in the middle of nowhere. 

pairings: steve harrington x reader

warnings: brief mention of an argument between pos father and daughter, brief mention of foster care, cursing, otherwise none

word count: 4k

───────────────────────────────────────────

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

The dusty road stretched ahead, flanked by rows of weather-beaten trailers that seemed to sag under the weight of years gone by. The summer sun beat down mercilessly, casting harsh shadows across the barren landscape. Clothing lines hung in front of trailers, with clothes flopping around in the breeze. A battered pickup truck rumbled to a stop among the trailers, kicking up dust clouds in its wake.

“Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?”

“Y/N–” 

A gruff muffled voice mumbled as music flowed from a Walkman, and a girl moved her hair out of the way of her headphones. She took them off—flicking her eyes at her father who was trying to speak to her through the noise of her music, with frustration filling his eyes. There was a sign of age and decay on his face, slightly reeking of cigarettes.

“You’ve got to stop with the damn music when I’m talking to you,” The girl’s father spat. She remained silent, looking at the details of her new home; Hawkins very own lovely trailer park. 

“Get out, let’s start unloading.” The man sighed and opened the truck door, harshly shutting it behind him.

The girl sighed, unzipping her backpack in the foot space of the passenger seat, placing her Walkman inside of it. She stepped out of the truck, eyeing her new, run-down home. Y/N watched her father who carried boxes and house keys walk toward their home, a tan and brown trailer with a mini porch leading up to the entrance. The sound of cicadas filled the background in the forest behind them, with the not-so-friendly sight of neighbors arguing on their front porch in the distance.

While the pair unloaded their meager belongings from the truck, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of bitterness that clung to her. She resented her father for uprooting their lives once again, dragging her to this dismal trailer park in the middle of nowhere. 

But beneath the anger and resentment, there was also a flicker of something else—a glimmer of hope, perhaps, buried deep beneath the layers of disappointment. Maybe Hawkins could be a fresh start after all?

As Y/N finished unloading the last of the boxes from the truck into her room, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping over her. Her first day at Hawkins High in two weeks weighed heavily on her mind, how long would she be in Hawkins? Will she fit in enough? Will making new friends and meeting new people even be worth it?

The girl then glanced up at the trailer park's entrance sign through her room's window, the words "Forest Hills Trailer Park" taunting her with its irony. The park was far-fetched from the suburban neighborhoods she had grown accustomed to in her childhood, thanks to the money her mother had left behind that is now gone due to her father’s irresponsibility after his decline.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Y/N took cautious footsteps to her kitchen, passing the empty halls into the living room filled with moving boxes. She made her way to the kitchen and opened the small white fridge the previous tenants left behind, seeing it empty.

“No dinner tonight, birdie.” Y/N’s father spoke with a trace of alcohol lingering from his breath, calling the girl a familiar nickname—recalling the better days she shared with both her father and mother. 

“I’ll go to the store first thing in the morning,” He declared, and Y/N turned around to see him walking toward his room with a pack of beers in hand, stumbling slightly.

The girl harshly shut the fridge door, a look of resentment growing in her eyes. “You thought to bring yourself a pack of beer but didn’t think to pack any food?” She snapped, watching her father stop in his tracks. 

“You’re a fucking adult, you should think to pack your own shit.” He turned around, eyeing the girl’s frustrated figure standing at the fridge.

“I’m sixteen years old. We both know you won’t be the one going to the store tomorrow,” She hissed, growing more irritated while eyeing the pack of beers in her father’s hands. 

“Then starve, ungrateful brat.” Her father spat back, retreating to his empty and undecorated room.

Y/N sighed, hungry and defeated—treading her way out of the kitchen and back into her room. She opened the door to the dim lighting and walked toward a pile of boxes, then sat on her knees to begin unpacking. 

The first thing she pulled out of the boxes was a sketchbook with a set of colored pencils. She carefully held the sketchbook in her hands, opening it and skimming through the pages of her drawings that hundreds of hours had been spent on.

There were drawings of wildlife, landscapes, and people she would observe. One of her drawings that always stood out to her was Watson Falls from Oregon in 1982 where she previously resided before her move to Indiana.

It was one of her favorite places that her father had relocated to in his search for work, just as he had moved to Hawkins and the dozens of places before. The girl was not one to belong to a big social crowd, not wanting to get attached—knowing she and her father would pick up and move time and time again.

With a sigh, she closed her sketchbook, setting it with her colored pencils on top of other unpacked boxes. She took a deep breath and moved her hair out of her face, crawling over to her mattress in the corner of the small room, arranging the sheets and pillows she had thrown onto it amidst the unpacking. She laid down, staring at the bland ceiling, letting sleep consume her.

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Y/N sat crisscrossed on the damp ground with her sketchbook balanced on her knees as she felt a sense of calm wash over her. There was a slight breeze that caressed her cheeks, with her hair flowing in the wind. 

The girl’s face was tinted with a slight pink as sweat began to trickle down her forehead due to the summer heat. The dense woods behind her trailer stretched out before her with the sounds of cicadas and other wildlife filling the thick, hot air.

With each stroke of her pencil, the girl captured the beauty of the landscape—the gnarled branches and twisted roots weaving together in a mesmerizing dance with sunlight peeking through the trees. As she worked, a strange sensation crept over her—an odd prickling at the back of her neck that sent shivers down her spine.

Glancing up from her sketchpad with an odd feeling, the girl's heart skipped a beat as she saw something glowing an orange and red hue in the darkness of the woods as the sun began to set. Overcome with curiosity, the girl hesitated for a moment before standing to investigate. With her sketchbook tucked under her arm, she ventured deeper into the forest, the dense undergrowth rustling beneath her feet with each cautious step.

As she rounded a bend in the woods trail, the girl stumbled upon a clearing bathed in an ethereal glow. In the center stood a gnarled oak tree, its branches reaching skyward like twisted fingers grasping at the heavens. She began to hesitantly reach towards the mysterious glow, her hand becoming damp as she made contact with it, the other side foggy.

With a gasp—she suddenly pulled her hand back, watching as a figure moved toward her through the other side. The figure made its way even nearer to the entrance, and the girl watched with wide eyes as its shadow covered the hue of the portal. 

Its presence was overwhelming and filled the girl with dread, not quite understanding what she was looking at. Before she could even process what was happening, a gnarly hand with long claws suddenly burst through the portal, a thick slime covering the girl’s face from the impact.

With a sudden jolt of fear, she turned and fled, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the woods as she raced back toward the safety of her trailer. She used her sleeve from her flannel to wipe the disgusting slime off of her face with terror overcoming her body. 

Even as she put distance between herself and the mysterious portal, she couldn't quite shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air—something was not right. Whatever that thing was, it did not belong here. 

No one would believe what she saw.

The girl swiftly opened her trailer door, rushed inside, and slammed the door shut behind her, catching her breath from running, putting her hand on her heart. The familiar voice of her father sent a chill down her spine as she read the clock—9:04 PM.

“Where the hell have you been, Y/N? You were supposed to be back by eight, sharp.”

The air was suddenly thick with tension. The girl stood by the front door as her eyes met her father's unsober ones. The trailer reeked of alcohol as her father's face grew more and more red with anger by the second. 

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.” Y/N softly spoke, beginning to trail her way back toward the safety of her room.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Her father stumbled his way over to her, beer in hand, grabbing the girl’s arm.

“Away from you,” She coldly stated, harshly pulling her arm away from the man.

“Yeah, run away from your problems just like your mother did,” Her father spat, and the room was silent for a moment, with tension suffocating the air. Suddenly—the girl grabbed the beer bottle in her father’s hands and smashed it onto the floor, with resentment growing in her expression.

“You little shit—you think you can do that? This is how you treat me? After everything I’ve done for you!” He slurred, his voice rising, looking at the glass shards from the beer bottle that covered the floor.

“Done for me? You’ve done nothing but ruin everything!” Y/N shouted back, her voice cracking as she felt tears forming, her next words hesitating for a moment.

“Mom would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”

Her father staggered closer to her, the scent of alcohol thickening as it entered the girl's nose. “You think you can talk to me like that?” He asked, coldly.

“I’ll teach you—you little brat, some fucking respect.” He then turned around and stumbled toward the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab another beer. 

As the girl turned around to exit the situation and retreat to the safety of her room, she was suddenly met with a beer bottle struck at her from across the kitchen into the living room, barely missing the side of her face and smashing into the empty, undecorated wall in front of her next to the hall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” She screamed, turning around, the feeling of betrayal flooding through her system.

“You like that, huh? You like to smash stuff? I’ll show you what it’s like!” Her father screamed back, grabbing the whole beer case from the fridge, smashing it onto the floor. The girl’s body filled up with fear, and she fought tears, helpless, watching as her father found more and more items from the kitchen to destroy.

Abruptly, he stopped everything he was doing and angrily staggered into the hallway toward the girl’s room, kicking the door open with his foot.

“No, no, what are you doing?!” Y/N followed him into her room, tears now streaming down her face, watching as he searched erratically through her messy, unpacked room, throwing things out of his way—smashing her belongings in the process. 

He seemed to have found what he was looking for, reaching for her sketchbook that was under her pillow. “Don’t!” She screamed, throwing herself toward him to try and grab her hard work carefully drawn on all the pages.

“This is what happens when you disrespect me!” He shouted throughout the trailer, opening her sketchbook and tearing it in half. The desperate girl threw a weak fist at her father’s chest, watching as anger boiled over in him. 

In a flash, her father struck her, sending the girl reeling into the wall. She began to sob, feeling the betrayal sting and bruise her face, watching as her father continued to tear up the pages she spent hundreds of hours of her time on.

Y/N and her father constantly fought, but never on this level—this was the first time he’d ever laid hands on her. Her father threw the shredded paper onto the floor and left her room. She looked around, seeing her belongings shattered from the fight. Her body trembled, and she crawled toward her destroyed hard work. 

The girl attempted to piece the pages back together, but hopelessness began to infiltrate her body. Through her tears, she noticed as the room flooded with bright flashes of blue and red lights coming from outside her window, and she squinted, spotting police vehicles.

In the other room, the girl’s father silently cursed at himself and staggered his way to the living room. The flashing red and blue lights of police cars illuminated the front yard, lighting up the darkness from the night outside. 

Y/N’s father looked out the window next to the front door, seeing the chief of police step out of his vehicle. His expression was grim as he made his way up the trailer porch, firmly knocking on the front door.

“Chief of police, Jim Hopper, open the door!” He knocked loudly, his voice commanding as he announced his presence. The door swung open, revealing Y/N’s father—Thomas, who was visibly agitated. The sight of a policeman momentarily sobered him, but the anger in his eyes remained.

“What do you want?” Thomas snarled, alcohol reeking from him, attempting to block the chief's view of the chaotic scene inside.

“There was a noise complaint, step aside,” Hopper ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Pushing past Thomas, the six-foot man entered the living room and took in the scene—the broken lamp, the smashed objects and alcohol, and a girl with tear stains standing in the hall, holding the side of her cheek.

“It’s just a small mess, my daughter over here had a meltdown, she just got a bit clumsy, I—” Thomas started with an excuse, his voice full of hidden guilt as the chief examined the scene.

“You’ve done enough,” The chief stated coldly to Thomas. “Sit down and don’t move.”

The tall-figured man, Hopper, turned his attention to the girl with his demeanor softening slightly. He took light steps toward her, asking quietly, “Can you take your hand off your face for me?” 

The girl looked behind the chief to her father for approval, but the chief intervened. “Don’t look at him, kid, look at me.”

She reluctantly moved her hand to her side, clenching her fist, not making eye contact with the authority figure as he examined the bruise forming on her cheek with tear stains covering her face.

“It’s going to be alright.” Hopper fondly spoke as he put a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder, before turning around and putting his attention back on the drunk. 

He pulled out his handcuffs, looking at Thomas. “Put your hands up, you’re under arrest for domestic violence. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in court.”

“What?!” Thomas slurred defensively. “Tell him, Y/N! I didn’t do that to you!” He desperately pleaded as his daughter watched him get handcuffed by the chief with tears in her eyes. The police chief took the man outside, shoving him into his partner's vehicle. 

“You didn’t even have a warrant, you can’t arrest me!” Thomas argued inside of the vehicle.

“I’m surprised you’re even sober enough to have that thought,” Hopper shook his head, slamming the door shut. “Well Chief, he technically is right, we should’ve had a warrant.” The other officer with brunette hair and glasses spoke, giving a slight shrug.

“I’ll meet you at the station,” he tells the other officer, brushing him off, beginning to make his way back to the trailer. “I’ll take care of the kid.”

𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

“And then that’s when he struck you?” A police officer with dark skin questioned the girl who was in a rather fragile state, holding an ice pack to her cheek. Her eyes were on the clock—10:48 PM. 

“Y/N?” The same voice resurfaced, while another intervened.

“Give her a break," The girl looked up, seeing it was Chief Hopper who spoke.

“Go home, guys, it’s getting late. I can handle this.” The chief commanded his officers, and they agreed, packing their things to get a night's rest at home.

The chief's attention shifted to the girl sitting down. “Look, kid… you can’t stay at your house until you have an adult guardian staying with you,” he started, fondly. 

“Do you have anyone you can call? Any other family?” He gently questioned, watching as the girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She slowly shook her head with a carefully guarded expression. 

The officer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching this girl go through the foster care system—knowing all she needed was a stable environment, especially at the end of her teenage years.

“Alright,” he nodded to himself. “Your father will be going through court for custody over you for domestic violence charges. The system will place you in foster care for the time being. But I have an offer,” The chief raised his eyebrows and watched as the girl shifted her guarded expression to him, listening. 

“I can pull a few strings, and as long as you’re comfortable with it, you can stay with me, kid.”

The girl was silent, observing the chief. He had a soft and unsure expression written on his face, and his mustache covered his lips, while his chief hat hid his brunette hair. The girl's eyes were guarded but vulnerable, the man could see it.

“Thank you,” She started speaking softly, pausing. “I don’t want to go into foster care... I love my dad, but he’s… this fight was different.” She paused again, changing the subject, shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t mind staying with you while this is figured out.”

"Alright then, let’s get you settled in tonight," The chief fondly smiled, reassuringly placing a hand on the girl’s tense shoulder as she nodded.

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

The evening settled over Hawkins, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Y/N found herself nestled comfortably in the chief of police’s trailer that was isolated in the middle of the woods.

The warmth of the crackling fireplace enveloped her as the fall season approached, offering solace and a sense of security that she hadn't felt in a long time. A new sketchbook Hopper had gifted Y/N upon hearing of her interest in art sat in her lap as she sketched the sight of the fireplace. With her pencil in hand, Y/N sat opposite Chief Hopper, the sound of the fireplace filling in the silence. 

“How are you feeling?” The man started up some conversation, glancing over at the girl. 

“Considering the circumstances, I’m alright,” She bluntly stated, observing the beer bottle in Hopper’s hands with pill bottles scattered across the coffee table in front of him, before shifting her focus back on her sketchbook.

“Good. That’s good.” The chief nodded, listening to the fire crackle throughout the trailer until Y/N, sat across from him, broke the silence. 

“You know you should stop with that stuff, being Chief of Police and all,” she suggested, giving a small shrug as her pencil glided across the page she was working on.

“That might be a good idea, huh?” Hopper remarked, giving a soft chuckle as he slowly began to realize that the kid had a point, thinking about how it might even trigger her looking back at the conditions of her father’s home, with beer bottles smashed across the house and pills scattered in the kitchen. Thinking about her father, he remembered the status of Thomas's case.

“Your father’s court date is in December… in the meantime, he legally can’t contact you.” Hopper started the difficult subject, watching as the girl continued sketching in her book. The date in the corner of the drawing read August 3rd, 1983.

“He’s been released from jail, and he has the option to fight for custody against the state in his court hearing," The man added.

“And if he doesn’t?” The girl asked quietly, attention still on her sketchbook. 

“You’ll belong to the state.” Hopper reluctantly finished, silence filling the air once again, with the girl momentarily pausing her sketching.

“Anyway, the first day of school is tomorrow… have you met anyone you’re going to school with yet?” Hopper changed the subject, in hopes to lighten the grim mood.

“I haven’t had the chance to go out and meet anyone,” She stated, quickly ending the conversation, leaving Hopper to wonder what else to talk about with the girl before bed—until he decided to just leave it.

"Alright kiddo, I’m going to hit the hay. I’ll take you to school in the morning.” Hopper stood up, retreating to his bedroom. 

“Sounds good. Thank you,” Y/N softly replied, hearing a gruff “mhm” from the man as he departed to his room. As the night grew later and the fire dwindled to embers, the girl prepared for bed, her mind buzzing with anticipation for the day ahead—her very first day at Hawkins High.

────────────────────────────────────��───────

worlds apart navigation next chapter

taglist: @anqelically @cupofjoekeery @steviespookie @hailqueenconquer @just-tiredman @x-theolivia @fuckshitslover

[noxious-fennec]

C!Q + vylette's fit from Jawbreaker

(aka an idea I've had for every conceivable holiday for months and decidedly couldn't put out on an appropriate date)

[lover-of-mine]

Inspired by The Definition of Love and All Things Ineffable by @elvensorceress on ao3

Everything is still. Quiet. He stares like he’s never seen. He probably hasn’t. But it sings through every cell in his body. Eddie… the things Eddie sees as love…

Eddie breathes slowly and wets his lips. “All I know about the kind of love you’re asking about? Is you. Love, to me, is you.”

Buck knows it’s true because he feels it. He’s always felt it. He’s never really doubted the strength and depth of their bond, just how to qualify it.

[cthulhum]

I DID NOT ASK TO BE OBSESSED WITH GAY FIREFIGHTERS LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONEEEEE OH MY GOD

[shokupanda]

severely sorry for not logging into this acc for months. hereforth is carl echo vn to visualize where i have been mentally. bweh :3

(ill be back posting art soon since its almost the semester break now! thank god)

[seiwas]

SEL MY SEL …….. crawling over here for the ask game …………… you already know . who i’m going to ask for phdkdjdkdb IN MY DEFENSE I WILL NEVER GET OVER YOUR VERSION OF HIM !!!!!!!

….. sugu ….. with ’sun’ ……. maybe 👉👈

(🍵 <- a little matcha for your troubles … good luck with the writing exercises my loveee <33 i’m cheering you on!!!)

ARI 🥹🥹🥹🥹 hehe ofc i shall write sugu for u! writing him is always so fun 🥹 thank you for the prompt, and for the matcha!! i will be sipping it as i write this 🥹 it is not a trouble at alllll!! esp if it's for youuuuu 🫶

contains: beautiful, gorgeous, sexy neighbor suguru, mood can be a bit unsettling... honestly a little stockholm syndrome-y (does this count as dark? idk 😭), skewed concept of reality and time

suguru + sun

you move into a new neighborhood on your 24th birthday.

it's a quaint house, fully furnished with wooden panels lining its contemporary build. you consider yourself lucky for finding a place this well-kept at the price point you offered. you're honestly surprised that suguru, your now landlord, accepted your application.

the area sits a few kilometers on the outskirts of the city, but it feels neither too quiet nor too busy; a perfect balance with an impressive view of the rising sun this early in the morning. that, and the people seem friendly, greeting you as they pass by. they even offer to help you haul things out of your car and into the house.

to the right of your house is one that holds the same design elements at yours, although a bit darker in its tones. it's sleek and modern, befitting of a bachelor.

"you must be the new tenant," a voice speaks from behind you, syrupy and smooth. you didn't even hear his footsteps.

when you turn around, you're met with a tall man who greets you with his arms held behind his back as he tilts his head low. there's a calmness that radiates off him, a sort of gentleness that signals he’s someone you can trust.

you nod, introducing yourself with your hand outstretched towards him.

"suguru," he replies as his fingers grab yours delicately. your eyes widen in surprise, recognizing the name, and he merely chuckles in return, a soft laugh that brings out kindness in his eyes.

"i should greet you properly," he lets go of your hand, placing it back behind him. "hello, new neighbor."

.

over shared breakfasts by your porch and impromptu dinners over at his, you grow a liking to suguru. he's polite and thoughtful, often knocking at your door in the mornings to offer you a cup of tea to watch the sunrise.

"you'll only find sunrises like this here," he leans back on the wooden chair you set out as outdoor furniture. his head tilts towards you slightly, impossibly close as you notice the corner of his lips curl up into a small grin.

hues of pinks, purples, and orange blend to illuminate his face perfectly. the sun is beautiful in front you, peeking between clouds as it inches away from the horizon, but something about him is infinitely more magnetic. your stare is immediately drawn to his lips, smooth and supple, before it meets his gaze.

you don't know what's worse―wanting to lean in or be pulled by the look in his eyes.

he fixes things that break in your home, always somehow knowing just when to show up. at first, it was your windows, the one by the attic, too high and dangerous for you to climb; then, it was your kitchen sink, its pipes regurgitating the water going down the drain. he's begun to bring you your groceries too, often asking for a list of what you need when he makes trips out of town.

your days blur easily when you're with suguru, and time passes almost fleetingly as you find your hours filled with soft laughs and touches so delicate you sometimes wonder whether they're real.

it should be noted, you think, how much time has passed since you first met him―an anniversary of some sort.

.

you learn that he owns both houses―his and the one you're currently renting. it once belonged to a friend who had to move for bigger, greater responsibilities elsewhere, he'd said.

"why did you decide on renting?" you ask him one night, over wine and candlelight.

your fingers fiddle with his as he sits you on his lap, this thing between you growing more intimate lately. he rubs his thumb along your thigh, resting his chin by your shoulder.

"you could have sold it or something."

he presses his lips gently on your collarbone.

"i could've," his fingers trail up to your waist, crossing your chest before landing on your chin, cupping it lightly to face him. your heart is hammering in your chest, senses on fire as his nose kisses yours. you think you can count every mole that dots his face beautiful. then, he inches closer, lips grazing yours as he whispers, "but i was waiting for you."

.

you mark each day at sunrise.

your digital clocks and calendars stopped working after some time, but you don't mind. suguru always tells you what date it is when you ask.

this morning, you wake up in his bed, and the sun is still as breathtaking as you remember it, the same pink, purple, and orange hues streaming through his window. when you look closely, the clouds―

"good morning," he brings you tea in bed, his hair topped off with a bun, a half-up-half-down.

your stomach fills itself with something warm and fuzzy as you smile at him, "morning."

"slept well?" his hand reaches for your waist under the duvet, and you giggle, ticklish.

"very," you crane your neck to land a soft kiss on his lips. "what date is it today?"

"october 28," he supplies.

your eyebrows shoot up as you realize, "i have to bring my car to the mechanic."

it's been 6 months now since your last check, right before you moved, and though you barely use your car anyway, it's best to be safe.

you quickly move to get up but suguru's hand keeps you in place, firmly pressed on your waist.

"i'll do it," he says with a smile on his face, "you rest here."

.

you barely see your other neighbors except for the girl who smokes a pack of cigarettes a day and the twins down the street.

when you ask suguru about it, he dismisses the question quickly, saying, "must have moved," as he urges you to take another sip of your tea.

you dream of them that night, on bare streets; it wakes you in a cold sweat, the image of your neighborhood reduced to just your house and suguru's.

.

this is the 200th sunrise since you started counting, which means this is the 200th day since you and suguru officially got together. kind of.

your gift for him is a painting of the sunrise, because it reminds you of him; and because it's become your favorite thing to look forward to, too.

the pinks and purples blend together beautifully as it contrasts with the orange hues, and the sun continues to peak above the horizon as it settles between clouds.

suguru kisses you when you give it to him, the taste of tea right on his tongue.

he frames it on his bedside, and when you wake in his room the next morning, it greets you along with the back of his head, fast asleep.

your eyes flit to the view outside his window, the same pinks, purples, and orange hues. you tilt your head curiously, brows furrowing. the sun stays at the same spot above the horizon, and when you look at the painting again, the clouds hold the same position and shape.

a chill washes over you, your hearbeat pounding.

.

"what date is it today?" you ask suguru as you wash the potatoes in the sink.

another bag of groceries from suguru. now that you think about it, you don't think you've ever gone to the grocery store since moving.

"is it important?" he responds, slightly snappy. you've begun to notice that he hates it when you ask lately.

you eye him from the side.

"i was thinking of preparing a menu of what we'll eat during the holidays, if it's near."

the furrow on his brows smooths out as you give your answer, and so he says, "december 5."

and you know something is wrong, because that can't be it. it doesn't make sense with the sunrises you've counted.

.

you dream again, more and more as the days go by―dirt roads and your house and suguru's, run-down and empty. more things start breaking in your apartment, and suguru always knows when they need to be fixed.

there's a deep, twisting feeling in your stomach that intensifies, festering under your skin; it worsens in the mornings, when you sit with suguru at your porch and you think you see a crack in the sunrise.

.

sunrise valley the place where the sun never sets! ─── beautiful, bright, and destined for people who live just like you! find your new home here.

[DISCONTINUED] — FOR DEMOLITION ON DECEMBER 7. under investigation for suspicious spiritual activity and missing persons.

[fraternum-momentum]

apartment hunting lead me to a job interview tomorrow, wish me luck 🙏😭

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: Emmet and Ingo go to the hospital.

That's the story! Thanks for coming along the ride! Also, it's a double update

[sharkuro]

So uhh new splatfest theme sure is something?

Im so sorry about this one idk what gay demon possesed my aroace ass ;-;

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I saw the hairless cat part and I want to had a fun fact to it.

Hairless cat are really oily because they don’t have fur to collect it, so their oils get everywhere and STAIN a lot- Erik will fully loose his minds with all the oils stain the cat would made.

the cat is ABSOLUTELY to go NOWHERE NEAR his closet alright he can excuse it using the kitchen table as a scratching post but he draws the LINE at his silk robes

[eph9ria]

FIRST POST HERE YIPPIIIE!!!! just dont mind the intro its a french tiktok..........

[luck-of-the-drawings]

The Oath an older sister takes is on par with that of a Paladins, and sometimes upheld with the very same ferocity…